Little Witch and the Warlock
by GoddessFreyja
Summary: Samantha has been trapped in Kai's prison world with the sociopath himself. With Bonnie gone and no Bennett blood available to trigger the ascendent, how will they get out? Soon Kai finds out that he is not the only one with a dark past.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Sam

Fuck 1994. I mean, how did people live without the internet, live without any other useful technology for that matter? Finding information is an insane task in this god forsaken slice of lost time. I have been at the Mystic Falls Municipal Public Library for weeks trying to find anything useful, anything related to the Bennett witches. I just need something that could give me a glimpse into their history, their bloodlines, anything… just that one detail that could give me hope. The hope that I will get out of this alternate universe that is Kai's prison is all I have to cling too.

For the past seven months (two weeks…three days…) since I was ripped from Bonnie and Damon's side, I have been here, trapped with Kai. He trapped me here. Him…there are no words for the boiling resentment I carry around like armor.

The three of us had managed to get the ascendant from Kai's possession. We managed to make it to the spot where the eclipse was in perfect alignment with the Gemini constellation, the only spot on earth where the ascendant would work. As Bonnie was chanting the spell, I felt myself ripped from their hands. By the time I hit the ground they were gone. I was left there, staring at Kai. He was seething, rage filled, a loaded gun ready to go off. As I raised my hand to send him slamming against the cave wall, I stopped momentarily, noticing a slight shift in his face from anger to anguish and then back again. He balled his fist, knuckles white, and walked into the darkened tunnel towards the surface.

I've had a lot of time to reflect since that day and I have learned a few things:

1) Losing your entire world is like a comforting friend dying. You can go through the various stages of the grieving process multiple times. I have gone from denial to anger, back to denial followed by a brief period of bargaining and a long period of depression, then some more anger. Not acceptance though. I have yet to accept this as my fate. I will get home.

2) Lack of human contact can drive you to the brink of insanity. There were a few times that I left Mystic Falls and drove as far as I could manage. Every single time I came back. Loneliness is a hellish punishment. The longest I managed stayed away was twenty-six days. I couldn't just survive being alone despite the fact that the only companionship available was a self-proclaimed sociopath.

3) Not matter your rage, your bitterness, your overwhelming resentment that strangles your every thought…you cannot stay away from the one single other person in your world.

So here I am, scanning through decades of microfiche at the library. I am an expert in Mystic Falls' history after the copious volumes of local articles and historical documents I have studied. Yet not come across one useful bit about the Bennett witches. As I scanned yet another set of obituaries, I felt his warm breath on my neck. Despite how much I loathed when Kai snuck up behind me, which he thoroughly enjoyed doing often, it sent chills down my spine. It is funny how much you miss physical contact when it is absent for so very long. I often think about how we are a species meant to touch each other. We are pack animals, really.

"Awww…Do you still think you are going to find something, princess? You won't," he whispered just under my ear, "Trust me. I've tried."

Despite the seething anger I had for Kai, stemming from him entrapping me here, we had come to an understanding. We would have to put up with each other to maintain the least miserable existence that could be managed in a world devoid of any other living creatures.

With a flick of my fingers I knocked a dozen books off the shelves behind me, a sly grin slowly appearing on my lips. I knew it rubbed Kai's ego raw when I flippantly used my magic. He had learned very soon after we met that attempting to syphon my magic would not be easy. Luckily, he had not tried since. Even if he did, I was more than capable of protecting myself.

"Why don't you pick those up and leave me alone. If you recall, I am much smarter than you so I am sure I will find whatever you missed," I mumbled through my fingers as I leaned closer to the screen, feigning disinterest in his presence.

"You really enjoy showing off, don't you, little witch?" he sighed.

"It brings meaning to my life," I quipped, turning to look at him.

He tipped his head ever so slightly and narrowed his eyes. "One day, I am just going to suck all your magic out of that tight little body and leave you for dead," he mused as he considered me.

"No…you wouldn't. Then you would have no one to listen to your endlessly outdated stories about decades gone by, old man," I pointed out as I turned back to the screen.

At the age of 24 I was, in theory, two years older than Kai who had not aged in 18 years. We had spent many hours arguing about who was actually older and I have yet to come to a conclusion. This was just one of the many philosophical debates that Kai and I had over the past few months. Like a hateful, old married couple, we were in our comfort zone when we were bickering about anything and everything.

The extent of our discussions had touch on so many subjects since our agreement to coexist in Mystic Falls. Kai was endlessly fascinated as I described modern technology. Phones, iPads, email, Instagram, were all foreign concepts to him. Sometimes we would sit around drinking whiskey and he would tell my about the early 90's…his favorite music, favorite movies, books. It was a great source of material to give him shit about. I mean, as far as he was concerned Ace of Base was still a thing.

There had also been other conversations. I learned about his childhood and his constant failure to gain acceptance from his own family. I would sit on the couch, my knees pulled up, watching him carefully as he recounted painfully memories. I could see the dejection in his eyes. The emotional scars marked by the slump in his shoulders as he focused on his feet while rehashing his past, pausing once in a while to look up at me, judging my reaction. I tried my best to conceal the pity that welled up inside me. I was never sure if he trusted me enough to open up, which seemed so unlikely given his serious trust issues, or if he had some end game in mind, something that required me to trust him. It made me wary but I couldn't deny the waves of sympathy hearing these stories elicited from the pit of my stomach. I knew a little about childhood scars myself.

The day I knew I might allow myself to trust him changed everything. It started as a seed of regret and denial in the pit of my stomach. We had taken it upon ourselves so borrow an Acura NSX for a joyride. As we drove through the Virginia countryside at top speeds, he told me about his various suicide attempts and failures.

"Hanging, gun shot to various vital organs, alcohol poisoning…one of my favorites. That, I have done multiple times," he threw out off-handedly with a sideways glance. "Umm…pills, slitting my wrists, I jumped off the Grand Canyon once," he noted proudly and then paused. "The worst was drowning. That…that was excruciating. But, you know, feeling the pain was preferable to feeling the loneliness." His smile faded after his last admission. We drove in silence after that.

I realized that part of his punishment was that there was no escape. Listening to him recount in detail the brutal ways he tried to end his existence forced me to see him in an entirely new light. I had never gotten to the point of considering suicide. I had not lost the small glimmer of hope I clung to like a lifeline. He clearly had…years ago. The arrival of others to his prison had ignited a spark of hope within him, one that he had not had for so very long. Suddenly, I could see why he couldn't have let me go with Damon and Bonnie. The terror of being alone, again, after having companionship for the first time in almost 2 decades was more than he could handle. After spending only an insignificant fraction of the time in 1994 that he had, I already see that I would have done the same if our roles had been reversed. And so the seed grew...

Kai grabbed a chair from a nearby table, planting himself in it backward as he rested his arms on the backrest right next to me. "Aww, sweetheart, I think you love hearing about the birth of grunge rock," he injected dripping with snarkiness. "You should call it a day with this..." he paused waiving his hand to indicate the obituaries I was skimming, "futile research. I have some other ideas about how we can spend the afternoon." As I turned to look at him again, I caught him running his thumb slowly across his lower lip. I was momentarily caught off guard by the gentle palpitations this caused me, like fluttering wings in my gut. God Damnit! I needed to get my shit together. I had never been a swooning school-girl. Off-putting and bitchy was more my style.

I cleared my throat and gained as much composure as I could manage. "Look. You know I can't give up. It's the only thing that keeps me from going off the deep end. I need this," I reminded him, "and stop looking at me like that."

"You love when I look at you. You know it's true. Don't try to deny it," he sighed. "Plus, I brought you back something you're gonna love from my trek to Fork Union", he sang as his mouth curled into a tentative smile. "I found 3 cases of Jolt Cola in the Food Lion… all the sugar and twice the caffeine."

"Whatever. Just let me work in peace so I can concentrate," I scolded as I turned back to the screen. I heard Kai let out a dejected sigh when I saw it.

May Louise Holmes. b September 15, 1898. d January 25, 1963.

I remembered the name from the Bennett family tree. It was Bonnie's great-great aunt, her great-great grandmother's sister. "Holy shit," I muttered, "This is it."

"What are you talking about?" Kai grunted as he stood up.

"This is the first person that I have found in the Bennett bloodline that was not cremated. Do you know what that means?" I stood up and snapped around, looking Kai directly in the eyes. He gazed back at me, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tight. I could see his refusal to accept this fragment of a possibility. He was steeling himself for disappointment.

"I can get blood out of her…Bennett blood. We have a real shot at getting out of here." Tears started to well up in my eyes, one escaping down my cheek. This seemed to shock Kai. In all the time we had been here together, he had never seen me crack. I am not the type of person to reveal that I have even a shred of vulnerability, but this was too much. It was a real chance to get home.

I watched Kai's eyebrows unfurrow and he took a concerned step towards me and pulled me into his arms, his hand smoothing the hair on the back of my head. I was shocked at first, then I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tightly, laying my head on his chest. I could hear his heart beating loudly. It soothed me and then I did something unexpected. I started to laugh. I was filled with such a massive rush of endorphins that I just couldn't stop myself.

I pulled my face from his Violent Femmes t-shirt and peered up at him. He was unsure. His eyes bore into me and I felt his breath hitch for just a brief moment. "Are you alright?" he asked, "You aren't having an episode or something, are you?"

"No, I'm just fine. Better than fine, I found my modicum of hope," I replied, biting my lip, as I caught glimpses of the gray flecks in his blue eyes. Christ, he had beautiful eyes. What the hell was wrong with me? I needed to gain some distance from Kai so I could rattle some perspective into my brain.

As I was about to back away, without hesitation, he grabbed the back of my head and kissed me roughly. His hands in my hair, holding me to him as his tongue forced its way between my lips. The shock that hit my like a truck was only momentary. My mind was clouded and I couldn't think straight. I should have fought it but my hands betrayed me and found their way under his shirt so my fingertips could ran up his muscled back as I opened my mouth to meet his urgent, desperate kiss.

I wanted this, I needed this. I was surely going to pay in the end for making such a terribly reckless decision, but I had already thrown all my restraint out the window. I wanted so desperately to feel something, something with another person. I wanted to forget everything that weighed me down day in and day out and just feel pleasure for however briefly it might distract me.

He briefly pulled away to regard my face. "I have wanted to do that for months," he growled.

"Then do it again," I demanded as I leaned up and bit his lower lip, eliciting a groan from of him. He backed me against the shelves, lacing his fingers with my right hand and pinning it behind my head, kicking the books I had knocked on the floor out of our way. He continued savagely kissing my mouth as his free hand roamed down my back, finding my ass and squeezing it.

 _This is not right. I shouldn't be doing this. I can't trust him…can I?_

His lips started teasing their way down my neck to the hollow above my collarbone and slowly back up where his tongue skimmed my ear before he whispered, "I am going to make you scream, little witch." He pulled back, his eyes devouring me as a slight smirk spread across his face. In that moment, I lost all sensibility. I didn't care about right and wrong, about trust or pernicious intentions. My thinking was completely clouded by need and desire.

"You damn well better," I threatened breathlessly. Kai suddenly released my hand so he could slide my flannel shirt off my bare shoulders. As I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, he caught my lips again with his. I whimpered into his mouth as I ripped his army jacket from him.

"God, Sam, you are so hot," Kai uttered through clenched teeth as he picked me up and carried me to a nearby study carrel. The way his jaw set with such determination caused me to pant with anticipation. His hands slide up my knees and under my dress, his fingers hooking my panties and yanking them down my legs, then tossing them over his shoulder.

I grabbed his belt loops and pulled him too me. My fingertips roamed over his stomach, slowly pushing his shirt up his chiseled chest and over his head. I planted languid kisses along his collarbone and down to his nipple, flicking it with my tongue as he closed his eyes and groaned. Kai's hands were still stroking my thighs. Then they moved around to grab my rear as he pressed himself against me, his jean-clad member rubbing against my clit. His strong fingers skimmed up my waist, over my ribcage, pulling my dress over my head. My gaze lingered on his luscious bottom lip. How had I never noticed before? It was entirely too hypnotic. He was going to be the death of me, this immature man-child whom I could barely tolerate.

Kai scanned over my body greedily before pulling my lace bra down under my breasts and taking my nipple between his teeth. His tongue circled mercilessly as I leaned my head back, letting out a gasp as the sensation shot straight to my core. His eyes caught mine and he nipped remorselessly at the hard nubs, one after the other until my vision began to blur.

"Kai…" I moaned desperately, "Please. I…I…oh god…" then I lost all rational thought as he suddenly knelt down and push my legs apart. His thumb rolled over my clit and he slid two fingers inside me. My breath hitched so violently, I almost choked. He pushed his fingers further, his thumb still applying ruthless pressure to my sensitive nub.

"If I didn't know better, Samantha, I would think you wanted me," he purred.

"Mmmmmm," was all I could manage as he looked up at me with a devilish glint in his eyes, my hands pushing against the sides of the carrel, trying to steady myself.

"Tell me you want me," he demanded as his fingers curled against my g-spot.

"Ahhhh…please…please Kai. I want you. I want you so badly," I stuttered.

"Well then. I won't disappoint," he growled, standing up and pushing his pants down. He stepped forward; taking my ass in his hands, as he slowly pushed himself into me as deeply as he could.

Christ, it felt amazing. I wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his waist, my face buried in his shoulder, grunting with each wave of pleasure as he slowly slid out of me only to ram back in savagely. His hands slide up my back to hook over my shoulder, pulling me to him so his rigid cock was forced deeper inside. An upsurge of energy started to buzz around us. There was electricity in the air like the precursor to a lightning storm. A fierce burning was building in my abdomen, indescribable and prodigious.

I leaned back to gain more purchase so I could tilt my hips to meet his thrusts. I was oblivious to my surroundings, as if I had lost all my senses except touch. I felt tendrils of power chase Kai's fingertips across my skin, just under the surface, as he caressed my stomach. I was filling with an overwhelming fire when Kai's strong hand seized my breast. "Cum for me, little witch," he groaned into my neck.

I whipped my head back and screamed, "Kai, oh fuck!" causing the overhead florescent lights to explode one by one with a shrill pop, showering glass everywhere. Veins of electricity were escaping from the fixtures, lighting books and scattered papers on fire.

As Kai drove another deep plunge into me, I was pushed over the edge and my internal fire let loose. My vision blacked out and the shelves around us started to violently shake, hurling their contents in every direction. I tightened around Kai's shaft as I howled his name. He pressed is face against my collarbone, pumping a few more times before letting out an animalistic, guttural moan as he spilled his seed into me.

We were momentarily still, our arms wrapped around each other, my legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to twitch inside my core. Our breathing was ragged and worn, as if we had been fighting, not fucking.

I slowly lifted my head up and saw the small fires kindling themselves all around us, the books strewn all over, and countless tiny glistening shards of glass from the lights shimmered as the rays of the sun setting fell through the windows. That had never before. I had never lost control of my magic like that. I was struck by a deep fear. I had to constrain my powers, keep myself in check… otherwise my restraint would descend into uncontrolled chaos. This could not happen again. "Incendio cessant," I blurted in a rush to extinguish the flames.

It was then I noticed Kai's looking at me in wonder. "I guess I made you do a bit more than scream, my little witch," he slyly remarked, hooking his finger under my chin and kissing me. He stepped back, pulling up his pants before he leaned down to get his army jacket off the floor.

Turning back to me and I gave him a half-hearted smile as I tried to get my dread under control. He swathed me with his jacket and held me to his chest. I could hear his heart beating again, this time much slower. The longer I concentrated on the rhythmic beating, the more it calmed me, lulling me into a languid world of sleepiness. "So, we are going to do this? We are going to go find this May Louise Holmes?" I heard Kai rumble from his chest.

"Yes," I promised, "I am going to get us out of here."

 _Before I become a threat to both of us…_


	2. Chapter 2

So apparently, I am a total idiot! I have been posting new chapters but not publishing them so you could actually SEE the new chapter. Just shoot me now. Goood lord...

This chapter is from Kai's perspective. I think it will be interesting flipping back and forth to see things progress from both of Sam and Kai's view. I am slowly trying to plan each future chapter. Hopefully I will get them done more quickly. We'll see! Fingers crossed. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Kai

The half-moon cast swaths of pale light across the grass as it filtered through the trees, the clear sky was dotted with stars, just like every night for the past 18 years. It's almost two in the morning and she's sitting cross-legged on her kitchen table, her guitar in her lap. She's furiously writing down notes between plucking chords with her delicate fingers. I've been watching her through the large industrial window of her studio apartment from a park bench on the town square. Her upper window pane tilted out, allowing me to eavesdrop on the broken up bits of her melodic arrangement. She's never played for me. I doubt she has any idea that I know about her secret talent. She only plays when she is alone and I only know because I've observed her, or more accurately, spied on her. Semantics. My world, my rules.

She decided to take up residence in the same apartment she occupied in present day Mystic Falls, a rundown, shit-hole loft above the old school vinyl record store she owned. In 1994 it lay above a shitty travel agency. It was beyond me how she could be so sentimental. I don't waste time getting attached to places, or anything really, especially not awful, cramped apartments. I mean, she could have picked any house, hotel, or vast estate in Mystic Falls. They are all available for the taking. She claims it makes her feel more like she is home. Samantha just makes no goddamn sense to me.

She has been avoiding me since our tête-à-tête in the library. Man… that was a good fucking day. I had hoped for an equally incredible encore, but I have barely gotten a full sentence out of her in the past two weeks. I had intended to accomplish 2 things with our little transgression. Considering it was the first sexual encounter that I've had in almost 20 years that involved someone other than myself, my first goal was achieved with exceptional success. I can't say the same for my second objective. I was counting on our, shall we call it… intimacy creating a heightened level of trust between Sam and I. It would make it so much easier for me to stay in control if she trusted me, at least partially. I need to gain the upper hand so I can manipulate her to meet my needs, which mainly consist of escape and revenge. Unfortunately, that girl has some seriously fucked up trust issues and that is saying a lot coming from a self-proclaimed sociopath.

I have spent the past seven months trying to get Sam to have some confidence in me, no matter how misplaced. I had quickly figured out that she couldn't be threatened or blackmailed into submission like Damon or Bonnie. She was a loner, much like me. She didn't seem to have the same emotional attachments that others have and she was so damn closed off, to the point of being unsociable. After a lot of scrutiny, I realized my best option was trying to win her over by earning her trust. I've had to have a lot of conversations about my feelings, or rather feelings I probably should be having.

I've shared some well-placed tales of childhood trauma and added a morsel or two about my worst days in my prison world. Though she has attentively listened to all the personal secrets I've spilled, she's remained distant. I'm unable to glean much about her past, despite my best efforts. I mean, god dammit, most girls would be foaming at the mouth to fix a broken, bad boy like me. They usually eat that shit right up, but not her. Sam wears her smart-assed wit like a shield to keep herself safe from any real reciprocity. She just twists me around. I have no idea how I got here, with her knowing so much about me, yet I know nothing. Not to mention, as of late, I have been plagued by other thoughts, naughty thoughts, about Samantha…

 _I royally fucked up this time. The degree to which my plan has backfired is off the fucking charts…_

So here I am, stalking her like an awkward teenager. It's a role that fits me about as well as being a freaking kindergarten teacher. Sexual frustration aside, I am keeping close tabs on her every move. I still have the ascendant safely hidden but I am not taking any gambles with escaping this prison. I'm not going to get left behind again, not a chance. Whatever it takes. There is nothing I won't do to get out of this hell and destroy my father. I savor the thought of the look on his face when he sees me again, the shock in his eyes when he realizes that his abomination of a son was stronger, smarter, better, and back to finish what he started.

I needed to decide on my next move with this escape plan which, though ludicrous, was also the only one currently on the table. From the one brief conversation Sam and I had a week ago, I had gathered that she needed to find her family grimoire in 1994 before we could find May Louise Holmes, dig her up, and resurrect her. She seems to think it was in the house she grew up in back in Fayetteville, WV. As much as it sounded like a back-water town filled with a bunch of Appalachian hicks, I was intrigued to see where she came from. It was finally a chance to see if I could crack her façade and get a glimpse inside her mind.

Sitting here watching Sam and thinking about when the hell she was going to get that grimoire was driving me insane. Partly because she was wearing tiny boy short and a flimsy, white tank top…but mostly because I couldn't figure out what she was waiting for. She was a puzzle I was struggling to solve and it had become unmanageably maddening.

The lights went out in the loft. I guess Sam was calling it a night. I contemplated calling it a night myself but I was still frustrated, trying to regain my focus.

I had offered to take a road trip with her to Fayetteville but she snarled, "I need to go alone. I don't need you tagging along. You stay out of my past and I will stay out of yours."

Yet here it was, two weeks after finding this new Bennett witch link and nothing. She was seemingly in no rush to escape this cage we were living in. I needed to apply some pressure to ease some forward motion but that would be a delicate process. She's a very strong witch, probably the strongest I have ever met, though I am not sure that is saying much considering my lack of social interaction in the latter half of my life.

I mean, her control is incredible. It's impossible not to be envious. She's the first witch I've met that could resist as I tried to siphon her magic. Most of the time siphoning was like a smooth, well lubricated flow of energy filling my body. Feeling the power rushing through my veins was nearly orgasmic. With Sam, it was like sucking a really thick milkshake through a small straw. It took a lot of effort and I ended up with a massive headache. It was as if she could pull the power back as I was trying to pull it forward, a power hungry tug of war. The one time I tried, she punched me in the face as I was struggling to get just an ounce of her power. She broke my goddamn nose. I almost killed her right then, but Damon and Bon-Bon were still around and I was in no position to overpower all three of them.

I sat on the bench for about another hour. I needed to get some sleep. Why was it so hard to just get up and leave?

 _Maybe I'm scared to be alone…_

That's a laugh. I've been alone for 2 decades and have done fine. Why would it be any different now?

Suddenly, a scream ripped through the crisp night air. It was so jolting, so confusing that I was temporarily frozen in place. My first thought was, ' _who was that_?' which was absolute stupidity. There was no one else here that it could have been. My next thought was ' _who's attacking Sam?_ ' Could someone else be here? What the hell was going on?

I was up and across the town green, slamming the street level door open and taking the stairs up 3 at a time in a matter of seconds. I tried the door. It was locked. There was a loud crash inside, glass breaking violently. I needed in that loft. I couldn't let anything get in the way of my only means of escape. Sam was my one way ticket one of this hell. I felt panic rising in my throat, the prospect of her being hurt, or worse, slicing through my thoughts. I started pounding on the door, then backed to the far wall and slammed my shoulder into the door.

 _SHIT! That hurt. How the hell do they do that in movies?_

The door did not budge one bit. I rebounded to the far side of the hallway again and rammed the door at full speed for a second time. I thought I felt a crack in my shoulder. This had definitely become an assault on my manhood. Surely I could break this door down. I backed away again, this time readying my foot to plant on the door where lock met the door frame. As I flew forward, the door opened and I lost my balance, tumbling through the doorway. There stood Sam, looking at me in complete bafflement.

She looked down at me as I swiftly tried to get to me feet, asking, "What the hell, Kai! Why are you here? Are you stalking me or something?"

I was completely floored by her reaction. I mean, wasn't she being assaulted? What was with all the screaming and the smashing? My head was swimming and no logic was coming to me to bring me back to center. "Is someone else here? I … there was… what was all the noise? I thought… what the fuck is going on?" I felt tension rising in my chest, anger bleeding into my limbs.

 _Hold is together Kai. Take a deep breath._

She crossed her arms and looked at me like I was the biggest shithead in existence. "Were you sitting outside listening?" Sam admonished, "You were, weren't you? Seriously? What is your damage, Kai? Do you not have any social skills?" Her eyes narrowed at me, demanding answers.

"I was just taking a walk in the neighborhood," I retorted. I don't know how she did it…within a minute of arriving, she already had me on the defensive. God! It makes me fucking crazy how she turned things around on me. I was the one who was trying to help her, protect her from…. from what I was not sure. "What was all the screaming? I heard something shattering. Christ, Sam. I thought someone was up here. Did you expect me to just let someone murder my one chance out of here?" I countered. My shoulder was really throbbing, shrieking with discomfort actually, but damned if I would let on. I tried to lean against the wall casually, slightly wincing at the movement.

I could see her agitation building. What did she have to be so upset about? I was the one who was misled. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking deep breathes. Then she looked at me, her green eyes piercing and brilliant. "I. Am. Fine," she assured, pronouncing each syllable with defiance. "I do not need you to worry about me. I am quite capable of taking care of myself. Please. Just go."

"Are you kidding me right now? Do you even hear yourself? At the very least, I deserve an explanation of what is going on. You have been avoiding me like the black plague since, well... you know. You have not made even the slightest effort to get your grimoire, nor have you given me any sort of timeline on getting this Bennett blood that you assured me you could acquire," I seethed. "I am not leaving until you give me some goddamn answers. Start talking."

I could tell my face had begun to betray me, pain creeping in and contorting the corners of my mouth. I gently put my hand on my shoulder. If it wasn't broken, it was definitely displaced. I couldn't move it without pain shooting down to my fingers and across my chest. Unconsciously, my teeth clenched as I tried to ignore the sharp twinges.

Samantha's face softened as she moved towards me, her hand reaching out to inspect my shoulder. "Look what you did to yourself. I am honestly shocked you have survived this long alone," she mused, her voice shifting to a gentle, concerned tone. "Come. Sit. Let me look at your shoulder."

"The inability to die comes in handy. I have no choice but to survive," I snarked bitterly as I pulled away. "My shoulder is fine. Don't you worry about me. You should just worry about giving me some answers, like what the hell was the commotion I heard?"

"Fine, huh?" she challenged with eyebrows raised as she roughly slammed my shoulder against the wall, provoking a pained growl from between my gritted teeth.

"Mostly fine," I spat through deep breaths, closing my eyes momentarily as my vision went spotty, "Maybe a little bit not so fine. Fuck… are you trying to kill me?"

"Sit!" she demanded, pointing to a kitchen chair.

Irritated resignation crossed my faced and I walked over to the chair and sat. I had never been inside her loft before. The open layout made it seem bigger than it was. Aside from the walled in bathroom at the back of the space, it was completely unobstructed, boasting 15 foot ceilings. The walls had an industrial feeling to them, concrete blocks with wooden support beams every 10 feet or so. The entire front of the apartment was floor to ceiling windows, the tiny kitchen to the right of them running along the wall. The furnishings were sparse. There was an old, knotted-wood, farm style kitchen table with 2 chairs a few feet in front of the windows. A muted brown, overstuffed chair with an ottoman was pushed back against the left wall. A queen bed with a subdued green and brown duvet and a nightstand lay on the back wall, perpendicular to the bathroom door. The walls themselves were decorated with various framed pieces depicting an array of aspects from nature. Stormy ocean scenes, a tri-panel painting of blood red flowers on a black background, something abstract that looked like sun streaks pulsing through a thickly leafed tree. Somehow, this was not quite what I expected but it did seem to distinctly personify Sam.

I looked up at her as she tenderly used her fingertips to prod different points across my arm and shoulder, attempting to pinpoint the injury. I glanced toward the table where her guitar was still lying. Reaching out with my good arm, I traced my fingers along the fret, reminiscing about her playing earlier. It was a soothing thought. Her fingers continued to search until she found the source of the pain, sending a wave of agony burning through my nerves all the way up my neck and down to my fingertips. I tried to hold in my jagged breathes, pushing through the pain.

"The good news is that it looks like you just dislocated your shoulder. I don't think anything is broken," she concluded, "The bad news is that I am going to have to snap it back into place. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?" She stepped back, crossing her arms as her eyes bore into me, looking a bit too impish for my comfort.

"What exactly is the difference between the easy way and the hard way?" I asked hesitantly.

"Well, the easy way is for me to push it back into place by force. It's quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid."

"That doesn't sound particularly easy," I paused with a discouraged chuckle.

"The hard way," she mumbled as she stepped closer, pulling my hoodie off to get a better look, "involves the following...," and without a moment hesitation she planted a hand on each side of my shoulder and aggressively torqued it back into place with a sickening _thunk_ , a rage filled scream tearing forth from the pit of my stomach, my vision blurring temporarily.

"Just kidding. There is only one way to fix a dislocated shoulder," she goaded. Then she started to chant under her breath, her hands still in place. Slowly, the pain started to ease, relief washing through me like a cool breeze. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, glaring up at her.

"Holy Christ, as if I didn't have enough trust issues," I chided, my tone dripping with disdain.

"It hurts less when you aren't anticipating the pain," she replied with a shrug as she took a seat in the other chair.

"I'll try and remember that next time I try to break down a door, apparently in vain, since you aren't being murdered," I hesitated, rubbing my forehead in frustration.

"You need to tell me what the hell is going on." I demanded, fury beginning to boil just under the surface. "Screaming? Glass shattering?" I paused, muscles tightening in my jaw, my hand running through my hair erratically, "Sam. I need to know what is happening. A few weeks ago you wanted nothing more than to get home, to escape. You spent months looking for a clue to your freedom. Our freedom. Now that you find one, you won't do anything about it!?" I was fuming.

Sam's face was somber, unreadable. She just studied me, her body tense. Her gaze fell to the floor and she didn't respond.

I grabbed her wrist, yelling, "Why the hell won't you go the West Virginia to get your grimoire? What are you so damn afraid of?"

She wrenched her wrist from my grip, fire burning behind her eyes, her face callous and unrelenting. Calmly, she stood up. "I think we could use a drink," she suggested.

I threw up my hands. I was at a loss as to how to get in this girl's head. Maybe my people skills and my charm were rustier than I thought. One way or another, I needed to crack this nut. Despite my irritable mood, I took a moment to watch her saunter to the kitchen cabinet, her ass swaying from side to side in those tiny shorts.

 _Focus. If you want to get out of here you need to stay on top of things…though it would be more fun to be on top of her. Christ, Kai! Get it together…_

She sat back down with a bottle of maple whiskey and two tumblers, pouring three finger of whiskey for each of us. "That bad, huh?" I said, indicating the level of whiskey in each glass.

"Look, I am not interested in rehashing my past with anyone, especially you," a wry smile passing over her lips briefly before she took a sip of her whiskey.

"I'm doubtful that your past could be so tragic or humiliating that it would faze me," I said, scoffing at the thought that Sam would have a more horrifying personal history. "Abusive childhood. Killed my siblings. So evil that I was treated to my own personal prison world. What happened to you?" I asked sarcastically, "Did you cheat on a math test? Return a couple of library books late? Forget to call your mother every Sunday?"

The look Sam gave me burned with such raw anger, seething and wild. The sight was jarring enough for me to wipe the smirk off my face and sit back in my chair, just to create some distance between us. She took a substantial swig from her glass, swallowing it slowly. With a threatening snarl in her voice, she scoffed "Imagine your fucking surprise, finding out you don't have the market cornered on childhood trauma." She was looking down at the glass in her hand. She shifted her gaze out of the corner of her eye, meeting my own. "My mother is dead, so I will ask you not to mention her again." I could feel waves of her magic begin to ripple off her, dark and unsteady.

I was a bit stunned at her reaction and, for once, didn't have a hasty comeback. I took a deep breath through my nose and slowly let out a whistle as my fingers wrapped around my own glass, raising it to my lips. I glanced back at Sam's face, wondering if I would ever get any part of this story out of her. Doubtful. She kept anything personal just that.

I couldn't think of anything she ever told me about herself that was of significance. I knew maybe a handful of movies she liked, a bit about her tastes in music, some basic demographic information…that was the sum of my knowledge. I realized I had made some assumptions about her based on her (mostly) congenial, though guarded, nature. I didn't know a thing about her family, whether she had siblings, or who her parents were. I pictured in my head her life in a two story house with a happy family... a coven of happy witches in a happy home. I shouldn't have been surprised. I don't think there is a coven I've ever come across that didn't have some form bitter dissonance.

I pondered whether these assumptions had been my way of projecting, implanting in her life what I had always wanted in my own; parents who accepted me, siblings who I bonded with, maybe a family dog. It seems I had been sorely mistaken to think she had these kinds of luxuries. Perhaps we were more alike than I realized. I wondered if she also felt an unbearable need for vengeance too. Maybe this could be my new angle, a fresh instrument of control I could use. We could both seek revenge. Together.

"Alright, "I said.

"Alright what?" She asked.

"Alright, I won't mention your past again, though it sounds like we have more in common than I thought."

"Assume what you want," she remarked with a sardonic chuckle.

"Can you at least tell me what the commotion was?" Her stone faced resolve just spotlighted her stubbornness. I felt like banging my head against the wall. "OK, well can I get a timeline on the retrieval of the grimoire?"

"I don't know," she quietly admitted.

"Look. You need to give me something here. We're stuck together, like it or not." I paused, trying to think, before I continued, "Sam. I know you don't trust me, like at all, but you have to believe we want the same thing here. I will do whatever you need to get us out of here."

"I just…" she trailed off, rubbing her upper arms as if she were cold, "I don't let people in. It's safer that way…for everyone involved. When I am ready, when I can get my shit together, I will get what we need and we'll get out of this godforsaken place."

I couldn't really fathom what about her could be so dangerous. I mean, sure she had boatloads of magic, but she also had more painstaking control over it than some witches gain in a lifetime of practicing their craft. Then it started to dawn on me. She wasn't talking about anyone's physical well-being…

 _Shit. Is she talking about feelings? This is definitely not my forte. Shit shit shit…_

"Okay, a bit cryptic, but whatever. Look, I am not great with sharing stuff, you know… feelings either." This was more than true. I had shared with her the emotions I was expected to have about my various abuses, but that was not real deal, not the core of it all. "I'll make you a deal. We can start out small. Quid pro quo. I'll tell you something. Something honest and truthful. Then you tell me something. Equal risk and equal burden."

"Kai.." she sounded exasperated, "It's late. I'm tired"

"Deal?" I insisted, making sure she looked me directly in the eyes as I caught her hand between both of mine to stop her fidgeting.

"Alright. I'll play along…for now," she agreed dubiously.

"Really? I honestly didn't think you would go for that. I guess my charm is stronger than I thought…"I said, sarcasm concealing my shock. I was starting to worry what I had gotten myself into.

"Your charm is wearing pretty thin, if you ask me," she threw back at me with a derisive glare.

"Alrighty then… moving on." I didn't want to lose any forward momentum this conversation was having. "Ask away with the first question, start small."

"How often do you spy on me?" she spat out at record speed.

"Uh…well…"she was not screwing around. She intended to nail me to the wall straight out of the gate. I stumbled through my response. "There have been a handful of occasions when I wanted to see what you were up to… that it is possible, that I might have taken some liberties in checking in on your whereabouts…"I could feel my face flush a bit, like a damn idiot.

I could see that Sam noticed, a look of self-satisfaction emerging on her face. "Why? Remember, be honest." She demanded.

"Sometimes I just get bored. Not much to do around here, you know. Other times I wanted to make sure you were still here, that I wasn't suddenly alone again. Even after all this, I still worry that one day you will be gone. Just poof, you don't exist and I am back in solitary confinement for eternity, which frankly scares the shit out of me. And then…" I stopped abruptly. This was a bad idea. I was so incredibly uncomfortable with all of this. I was becoming slightly queasy or anxious maybe? I wasn't sure.

"And what?" she urged, "Continue. Tit for tat, remember?"

"And then sometimes I sit outside eavesdropping, listening to you play," I finished, indicating the guitar on the table, "I find it relaxing, calming. You're really good and, I don't know, I just enjoy hearing you play."

She didn't look at all surprised, as if she knew all this already but just wanted to hear me say it. "Did it ever occur to you that I can sense you with my magic?" she asked through an insufferable grin.

"Alright smartass. As much as I love being on the receiving end of you mind games here, it's your turn. Remember, be honest," I spit back her own ultimatum from moments ago, "What happened earlier? And don't give me any bullshit. A deal is a deal."

She sighed, a look of defeat on her face. I think she realized I was not going to let it go. "I was having a dream, a nightmare really," she admitted, "The idea of returning home to Fayetteville has churned up some unpleasant memories for me, to say the least. I have been having nightmares pretty much every night." She finished her whiskey, got up and put her glass in the sink. "Sometimes I wake up screaming, reliving…" she trailed off. She turned away, gazing out the window.

"I see. What about the shattering sound? What was that?"

"Have you ever felt like your past controlled you? Something or someone that wasn't even present in your life anymore, but they still affect your day to day life. You haven't seen or dealt with them in years, decades even, but just the thought of them could shake your mental stability?" she asked, still studying the night sky outside.

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. It was like she was pulling thoughts directly out of my head. Every day of my life here was controlled by thoughts of the person who put me here, my fucking father. On some days wrath and revenge regulated my thinking, others it was despondency and misery as I tried to come to terms with why I was never good enough. Either way, I hated that after 20 years he affected my life to this extent.

"I think I have some experience with that," I offered with a cynical glower.

"Well, I don't like to be controlled. I spent too many years at the mercy of others and I can't live with the idea that I am controlled by the memory of someone I hated"

"Understandable," I offered.

"So," she paused looking embarrassed and guilty, "I was pissed and fed up and…I threw the glass on my nightstand against the wall." She vaguely gestured to the wall near her bed and sure enough there were shards of glass scattered on the floor that I hadn't noticed before.

I began to laugh, giving her a cock-eyed smirk. "So you had a throw down with your water glass?" That was it? A bad dream and a defenseless refreshment? Remind me to never piss you off since your rage knows no bounds."

She began to laugh too. "You best watch your step, Parker. I'll take you out."

"I believe you. No arguments from me. I'm on my best behavior," I surrendered, putting my hands in the air.

The tension began to dissipate as we sat quietly for a few minutes. We both began to relax a bit, still grinning. I could feel the whisky hitting me, making me heavy-eyed. Sam didn't look much better.

"Well, if you are satisfied that no one is murdering anyone here, then let's say we call it a night," she said with a yawn. She got up and headed towards the door. I got up and followed slowly.

"Thanks for the drink," I sighed. "Sleep well." I turned to walk out the door.

"You know, it's late. It seems silly to go all the way back to the boarding house," she offered nervously.

I turned, slightly abruptly, unsure what she was expecting. "Are you…are you asking me to stay?" I hinted, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "I know I'm hard to resist, but you don't need to throw yourself at me. It's just unbecoming…"

"Shut. It. Parker," she snapped, a forced scowl on her face with no real annoyance behind it. "I just thought maybe I would have an easier time sleeping if I wasn't alone. I haven't slept in days and I just want a decent few hours. I'm only asking out of sheer desperation. Please don't make me regret this and have to throw you out…"

"You don't need to ask twice." I agreed quickly, taking two steps past her and vaulting myself onto her bed. I laced my hands behind my head, making myself comfortable as I grinned widely and nodded my head toward the spot next to me.

"Yeah…ummm…not happening, Kai. You can sleep on that chair with the ottoman, "she scoffed pointing across the room.

"You would make your guest sleep in a chair? " I replied indignantly as I sat up.

"I would make YOU sleep in a chair, yes."

"That's cold hearted." I slide off the bed, walking over to Sam. "How about you make me a promise? I will sleep here, despite the appalling conditions, if you agree to leave for West Virginia tomorrow."

She looked up at me, scrutinizing my intentions. "If I sleep well enough and feel refreshed for once this freaking week, then I will consider it. That is the most I can promise."

"I'll take it," I conceded.

Seemingly satisfied, she pushed past me to her bed and grabbed a pillow, flinging it at me. I caught it, giving her my signature sideways smirk, which only garnered a fierce eye roll on her part. She settled under her blankets and I sat on the chair and tried to get comfortable. My mind started spinning at the prospect of getting the grimoire tomorrow. If all went well, I would be one step closer to getting out of here. I was a bit apprehensive of getting my hopes up, especially with my track record for being let down. Slouching down and turning on my side, I hoped I could get some sleep.

"Night," Sam muttered, as I closed my own eyes.

 _Sweet Dreams, Sam._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Sam

I woke up to bright sunlight, but the angle was all wrong. It wasn't the usual morning sun streaming in, reaching across the floor. The sun was much higher, meaning it had to be later in the day. I rubbed my eyes and peered at the clock. 1:39 PM. Holy shit…I slept almost 10 hours.

As I tried to focus and shake the grogginess from my brain, I noticed an arm draped over my waist. "Sleep well, sweetheart?" he murmured in my ear. Of course. Kai. I wasn't even shocked that he had decided to climb into bed. Respecting boundaries was not one of his strengths. Surprisingly, I was not all that mad about it. I had slept so well and he was so warm and comfortable, his bare chest pressed to my back. I closed my eyes again, taking some time to enjoy the moment, feeling safe… for a short time at least.

"I did," I mumbled back, smiling. I could feel his breath tickle the back of my neck, his breathing relaxed and drowsy. "I see the chair didn't work out for you."

"Couldn't get comfortable," he said.

"You seem plenty comfortable now," I replied, my eyes still closed in contentment.

"This…is much more comfortable," he chuckled as he pulled me closer, smiling into my neck.

Oh boy, I knew where this was going and I couldn't go there. I still didn't trust his intentions and I sure didn't trust myself to keep my libido in check around him. It was one of the reasons I had been avoiding him, that and my constant state of anxiety triggered by the thought of returning to my childhood home. I had begun to suspect he was using sex, and the resultant closeness, as some form of control. Yup. Kai was not the only one with deep seeded trust issues. Not that it would have been possible for me to get close to anyone anyway since my magic was just a ticking time bomb looking for collateral damage.

"Breakfast?" I chirped pleasantly, albeit abruptly, as I wiggled my way out from under his arm. I walked around the bed to the bathroom so I could brush my teeth. "I have eggs and bacon," I told him as I peeked out of the bathroom door. He appeared bewildered as he sat up, a brief flash of hurt crossing his face.

"Sounds good," he replied flatly, picking his pants up off the floor.

 _Oh my god. He was only in his boxers. If I had known that when I was still in his arms…shit._

I pulled my head back into the bathroom, internally screaming, as I started to vigorously brush, taking it out on my poor teeth. Once I was done, I threw on my robe and made my way to the kitchenette. Kai was at the window, looking out over town square.

"Scrambled?" I asked as I pulled food out of the fridge.

"Sure," he said with little enthusiasm.

I threw eggs in one pan and bacon in another. Then I grabbed two glasses and filled them with OJ, placing them at our respective seats. Kai moved back to the table, sitting down and sipping his juice. "What was that about?" he asked pointedly, gesturing toward the bed. "Please, just be honest with me. Did I offend you or…"

"OK." I said, turning around. If he was going to push me into a corner, well I could play that game too. "I'll be honest if you're honest. Two way street, remember?"

"Fair enough," he conceded.

"I don't trust that your intent here is… I don't know," I started, searching for the right word, "authentic? That you don't have an ulterior motive for getting…cozy with me."

"Cozy? Is that what kids call it these days?" he challenged.

"Are they? Authentic that is?" I demanded as I began plating the eggs. "Tell me. What were you trying to accomplish in the library, other than satisfying your own personal gratification?"

He didn't say anything, as a look of culpability crept over across his face and I had my answer. My eyes slit in anger involuntarily and I quickly turned around to tend the bacon, patting myself on the back for trusting my gut. It had never led me astray.

"Sam, c'mon. Please listen to me." He pleaded as I refused to turn around. "Maybe my intent in the library wasn't completely honorable, but that was not what was happening this morning. "

"It's fine," I assured him. "I had no expectations and this would never have gone anywhere anyways. I don't do relationships. We are just partners in escaping this prison. We have that goal in common and that's all we need to worry about. Everything else is just distraction." I slid the bacon onto the plates and placed one in front of him, the other at my seat before I grabbed two forks.

"Sam…" he begged again.

"We have a lot to get done today and we're getting a late start," I said, shoveling the eggs into my mouth. "It's about a 3 hour drive to Fayetteville. We need to get going as soon as possible so we can be out of there before dark." The mere thought of being there after the sun went down terrified me.

He turned toward his plate, looking resigned, and began to eat. The next few minutes were filled with awkward silence, as we both finished our breakfast. I grabbed the plates and put them in the sink.

"I think we will just need a car, some extra gas in cans in case, and some road trip snacks. Which do you want to deal with?" I asked.

"I handle snacks," he offered unsurprisingly.

"I swear to god, you better not get pork rinds. I am not sitting trapped in a car with you, forced to listening to you eating them non-stop. I will throw the bag straight out the damn window."

"Understood… the road trip tyrant has spoken," he said with a mock salute. "Any requests?"

"If you could get me anything with chocolate and peanut butter, I will be eternally grateful. Go get showered and changed, get the food and I will meet you over at the boarding house at 3PM. Sound good?"

"Got it," he replied, then he stood there awkwardly for a minute, like he had something else to say, but he didn't. He just left.

I quickly showered, threw on a pair of ripped jeans shorts and a black baby tee, and pulled my rat's nest of curly brown hair into a messy bun. I was at the boarding house before three with the extra gas cans in the trunk. Through some not so pleasant experiences in my few weeks away for Mystic Falls alone, I had learned that it was easier to deal with gas cans in a pinch than it was to break into a gas station to turn on the pumps.

As I was walking to the front door of the boarding house, Kai pulled up in Damon's Chevy Camaro. I swear he drove it just because he enjoyed the thought of how much it would piss Damon off. I have to say, he wasn't wrong. Damon had a lot of feelings about his car. I couldn't help but smile. That kid was such a smartass.

"Why do you stay at the boarding house anyways?" I asked Kai as he carried a few bags of food over to the car, "I mean, it's a bit weird if you ask me. It isn't like you knew the Salvartore's particularly well."

"I like the architecture," he answered throwing the bags in the passenger seat, "I really dig the Tudor style and the dark wood. Plus...," he smirked impishly, "Damon's bed is the most comfortable in this dump of a town."

"Oh, I'm sure that the thought that it would irritate Damon has never crossed your mind," I asked, knowing full well that the idea brought him great joy.

"Well, that's just a bonus, isn't it," Kai gloated.

"Still, I thinking staying there is just fucking weird," I commented as I got in the driver's seat. Kai shrugged as he got in the car and we pulled out of the driveway.

Kai and I had accrued a stockpile of keys to an assortment of different vehicles in Mystic Falls. I had picked a blue Pontiac Grand Am for the road trip. It was my favorite for long drives because the seats were comfortable and there was plenty of leg room, not that I needed it, barely hitting five foot three.

We drove in silence for a while, listening to Pearl Jam. The scenery careening by, all the signs of late spring perpetual blooming, unchanged day after day. I was trying to mentally brace myself for what was to come. I had left Fayetteville when I was fifteen and had been moving around ever since. This would be the first time I came back in over nine years.

"Why did you decide to let me come?" he asked while munching away on a bag of cheese puffs, his fingers covered in orange cheese dust.

Kai's sudden question caught me off guard. "Why did I let you come?" I repeated.

"Yes. You made it clear that this wasn't something you wanted me sticking my nose in and then all of the sudden you did a one-eighty," he elaborated, "What changed?" He licked his stained fingers loudly in an attempt to clean them. Uh. His manners were unbearable sometimes.

"I guess I realized that if I couldn't even sleep…"I trailed off, thinking. "The fear is overwhelming, OK. You truly can't imagine how hard this is going to be for me," I continued, my knuckle white from my grip on the steering wheel. "After last night, I finally understood that if I had to go alone, well, I would never go."

"Do you care to elaborate?" he urged dubiously. "What are you scared of? It's just a house. Sam, I'm having trouble connecting the dots here."

"I…I can't," I said.

"How 'bout you tell me about your family then. Something. Anything. What were your parents' names? Did Mama and Papa LeBlanc have any other kids? I have no idea if you even have any brothers or sisters. Shocker, since you are so good with the sharing," Kai probed.

Samantha LeBlanc was the name I had been using since I was fifteen.

"LeBlanc was my father's name. Justin LeBlanc. I never actually met him. All I know about my father is what my mother told me. He was a voodoo priest she met in New Orleans. He was very good at his craft and a good man according to her. They had a fling and she ended up with me," I explained, "A few months into the pregnancy, there was a fire. He was killed."

"Oh. I see," he said, his eyebrows furrowed.

"After my mom had me, she moved from place to place for a while, working odd jobs. Eventually she found this coven in West Virginia. That is where she met, um, Alan," my voice quavered. Saying his name drew all the blood from my face, my breathing became short, a feeling of dread building. Kai sensed my unease and put his hand on the back of my neck, trying to soothe the panic so he could hear more.

"Go on," he urged.

Trees flew by my window as we climbed higher into the mountains. I focused on the wildflowers peppered along the median. It took me some time to collect my thoughts and continue. I was on a knife's edge, wavering between telling Kai everything and shutting him out, never disclosing to anyone what I was. Yes, I was a witch, but it was more than that. I began to realize that I had hit rock bottom. My demons were controlling me and I needed to take that control back.

I took a deep, shaky breath, "To fully understand, I need to tell you about Angéle de la Barthe."

"As in **_the_** Angéle de la Barthe? The first witch put to death during the inquisition in the 11th century?" he asked.

"You know your history," I confirmed.

"Wasn't she known for birthing the Devil's flesh-eating child? If I recall, the child was part demon, part wolf, part serpent and consisted solely on infants? Dark stuff, even for me," he admitted.

"Yes…well no. That is the story, but that is not the truth exactly. Angéle de la Barthe did have a child, a daughter. The part about the babies is true enough, but she wasn't feeding them to some demon spawn. She was a very powerful witch and she feared for her child, as any mother does, especially one born into a mystical heritage during a dangerous time. The infants were used for a considerable blood sacrifice… for her final spell, one last gift to her daughter," I looked over at Kai. He was both riveted and wary of where I was going with this. "Angéle bound her magic to the magic of all born into the de la Barthe bloodline. From that day forward each generation would bear one daughter. That daughter would receive the powers of her mother upon her mother's death, beginning with Angéle and continuing with every new descendent. Angéle's daughter received her magic; her granddaughter received the magic of Angéle and Angéle's daughter. Each generation is blessed, cursed really, with the magic of all generations before. "

"That would be, what, thirty generations by now?" Kai pondered.

"Thirty-four," I confirmed.

Kai scrutinized me from the passenger seat, "And you happen to know that how?"

"My birth name is Samantha de la Barthe," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kai sat in stunned silence, looking out the windshield, surveying the road in front of us in disbelief.

"At a loss for words, for once, huh?" I taunted.

"No," he scoffed, a cynical grin spreading across his lips, "You are full of shit. That is not possible. One person couldn't hold that much magic. It would kill them."

With an unnerving look of complete seriousness, I raised two of my fingers, swiping them in the direction of the tree line along the shoulder of the road, chanting to myself. Tree after tree, some growing along the throughway in this rural part of the state for a hundred years, was pulled up by the roots like weeds being eradicated from a garden. Each one, once freed, was flung half a mile into the woods beyond. As we approached a mountain pass, enormous boulders broke away from the rock face, raining down in our path. Kai began it panic, planting a foot on the dashboard and a hand on the ceiling of the Pontiac. I brought my hand around to point out the front of the car, explosively disintegrating each boulder seconds before we made impact. Once our path was cleared, I brought my hand back to the steering wheel, Kai still trying to compose himself as his heart beat a mile a minute.

"How is that possible? How can your body handle that amount of magic?" Kai choked out.

"It is part of my DNA. My entire lineage was been bred for this purpose. Magic is kind of like a rechargeable battery. Within each witch, there is a charger, a means of regenerating their magic that is part of their essence or soul, if you will. My bloodline has been blessed with a substantially larger regenerative core for renewing a massive amount of magic. The more magic that is spent, the longer the recovery time, but I still start out at a higher level than the average witch."

"You fucking think? You have thirty-four witches worth of power. That is unreal," Kai commented, his hands apprehensively running through his hair, leaving it all spiky and lopsided.

"You know, I have developed a theory about you. Maybe the reason you have no magic of your own is because your regenerative system is somehow broken. You can't renew your own magic because your internal charger is busted," I pondered.

"Not a new theory, cupcake. It's actually the one closest to the entire reason my family considered me an abomination. From as early as I can remember, they allude to the lack of my own magic as definitive proof that my soul was damaged in some way. Evil or broken…or just missing." He looked defeated, small and sad just for a brief moment. It broke my heart. He was a selfish ass, yes, controlling and boorish, but he had a soul. I was certain of it. He recovered quickly, turning to me as he leaned against the headrest, one if his feet still planted on the dashboard.

"So, you got all this magic at once when you mother died? That had to mess with your head," he questioned, his eyes bearing an intense look of interest.

"Ummmm…yeah. It was a struggle, to say the least," I said, voice wavering, trying to steady my breathing.

 _Jesus. Keep your shit together and get through this. Just tell him. Finish what you started._

"I need you to understand what we are walking into, here. To be completely honest, I am not sure I can make it through returning to that house without utterly losing control of my magic," I quaked.

"What the hell happened there?" Kai asked anxiously.

"It starts with my mother. Soon after we moved to Fayetteville, she became involved in this coven, the Proserpina coven, "I began.

"Never heard of them, "he remarked.

"Not surprising. They were weak witches who used their powers for petty gain. You can imagine the uproar caused when they realized the amount of magic my mother had to wield. It was nothing they had the privilege of experiencing before in their shitty little lives and they wanted what she had. The coven leader, Alan, soon took my mother under his wing under the guise of protection. My mother feared losing control. She believed that fire that killed my father was her fault. I can't say whether that is true or not, but it's definitely within the realm of possibility, "I said.

"Alan, with his less than truthful promise the keep my mother safe, blinded her with his lies and eventually she fell in love with him. They were married soon after. The honeymoon didn't last long, though. He convinced her that he needed to drain off her magic regularly so she could keep her power in check. He had her place chunks of her magic in everyday items and then he sold it behind her back to other coven members. She became their personal magical jackpot. They used her like a magical cow to be milked dry at their will," I scoffed, disgusted at the memory of it. Kai, too his credit, listened attentively.

"After a few years, my mother found out that Alan's was selling her magic as if he were a mystical drug dealer. She tried to leave him, she really did. I remember her packing me up when I was about 6. She told me we would go back to New Orleans, but we never left. Alan came home. I have vague memories of fighting and threats. So we stayed," I recounted, the beginnings of tears brimming along my eyelids.

"I think things got too hard for her after that. She eventually got hooked on meth, a West Virginia specialty, "I snickered mirthlessly. "To this day, I am convinced Alan got her hooked to ensure she stayed placid, docile, and controllable. She was for the next few years. Then, one day there was a fight. My mother had tried to drug Alan with some sleeping pills in his gin. I later gathered she had a plan to get us out of the coven. He caught on and went after her. She tried to defend herself, grabbing a kitchen knife, attempting to magically impale him with it, but she was weak, drained, and he was brimming with a dose of her magic. He deflected the knife easily, picked it up from the floor and slit her throat."

"Fuck. You saw all this?" Kai asked. "How old were you?"

"Nine, "I answered.

"All this magic was dumped into you at nine?" he asked, disbelieving.

"Yes. It was like what I imagine getting struck by lightning feels like. One minute I was looking at my mother, bleeding out on the ground, the next I was in convulsions on the living room carpet. I must have blacked out at some point because I woke up in my room, the door locked. By evening, the coven was at our house and Alan dragged me out of my room. He threw me in the center of circle surrounding a pentacle with various glyphs and symbols dispersed around the edges. Everyone started chanting and I felt pain like I had never felt before, as if a searing hot poker was being shoved through my spinal column. They were forcefully draining my magic," I spat out, seething with rage at the memory.

"I didn't realize…how did you survive that?" he questioned.

"I was a prisoner. They never would have let me die. I had become their magical meal ticket and they took their fill every few days," I explained. "Six years later, I escaped and I have never returned."

"And now you're going back," he said apprehensively.

"We're going back," I agreed.

 _Let's just hope I make it out alive a second time._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Kai

It was nicer than I expected, a little rundown, but clean. The two story white house had a partial wrap around porch with paint peeling off the railings in places. The yard was kept trimmed and tidy with a garden of curious plants growing on either side of the front steps. Black nightshade, henbane, belladonna, coriander, sage, pepperwort, and white sandalwood were a few of the plants I recognized immediately. There were other plants that I couldn't recall the name of, but I knew they were used for protection. This was definitely a witch's house. No doubt about that.

I was still trying to wrap my head around the bomb Sam had dropped on me in the car and I was beginning to get nervous about her ability to keep her shit together in the house. I can't imagine that much power being unleashed and I sure as hell didn't want to be around if it is.

"So where is the grimoire?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. Let's start on the top floor and work our way down," Sam suggested, the tension clear in her posture.

"I guess I am ready when you are. Let's get in and out, OK? Don't think about anything other than getting the grimoire," I tried to reiterate. "Don't get distracted."

Sam nodded and took a deep breath as she opened the car door. She slowly approached the front steps, waiting for me to follow. As soon as I stopped behind her, she moved up the stairs to the door, grabbing the doorknob. Locked.

"Reserare Ostium," Sam said with a flick of her wrist and the door swung wide. She seemed to study the door frame, hesitantly, as if walking through it might physically hurt her, but she went in.

We walked into a foyer with the kitchen to the left, a family room to the right, and stairs straight ahead. Looking around, it was an average home belonging to an average family. Toys were scattered here and there; Barbies and My Little Ponies, a bin of legos. There were still breakfast dishes on the kitchen table. I headed straight to the stairs leading to the second floor. At the top was a hallway with four doors, three bedrooms and a bathroom I suspected. As I walked toward the door at the end of the hall, I stopped to look at a collage of the photos hung on the wall. They looked like a picture perfect family. I assumed the woman was Sam's mother, a pretty blond woman, slight and smiling. The man must have been Alan. He was a nondescript man in his thirties, short brown hair, average build, nothing distinguishing. With an amiable grin on his face, he looked unassuming, with an air of trustworthiness even. Apparently that was a façade. I could relate. I've had years of practice, learning to appear genial and non-threatening.

Then then there was the little girl in the pictures. She had a familiar giant mop of unruly curly hair along with a grin missing the front teeth. Her warm honey colored skin was such a contrast from the parents in the picture. Her face looked so much like her mother's, yet she looked so different. She was wilder, free, a tiny little thing brimming with exuberance. The only person that controlled Sam was Sam. Even at this young age, just from an old photo, I could tell she was born a spitfire.

"That picture was taken soon after I started Kindergarten," she told me. With disgust in her voice she continued, "Alan was the only father I ever knew. I remember I used to love him, trust him. I was a stupid, naïve child." She spat the last words out, brimming with bitterness. At least I always knew my father hated me. I never had to endure the disappointment of learning he never loved me in the first place, since I don't recall him ever caring about me at all.

I just nodded and moved on to the end of the hall, opening the last door. I reminded myself that we needed to stay focus. In and out. No distractions.

We entered the master bedroom slowly. It was an average bedroom, like millions of others. In the corner, on a chair, was a laundry basket with clothing waiting to be put away. The dresser was covered in various knick-knacks and bottles of perfume. The bed was sloppily made, as if the covers were just thrown on in the morning rush out the door. There was a woman's robe laid across the footboard of the bed, Sam's mother's I realized. I peered at her out of the corner of my eye and could see the moment she registered its presence. There was just a momentary halt in her steps forward, then her jaw tightened and she moved on with her usual determination.

 _Good girl. Keep moving, don't think…_

"Indicent Quid Quaero, Indicent Quid Quaero, Indicent Quid Quaero…" Sam began chanting to herself, her eyes closed as she tried to sense the grimoire. She wandered to all corners of the room before she stopped. "Not here, let's move on," she concluded brusquely as she pushed past me and down the hall to the next door.

She stopped briefly in the bathroom, did a quick chant and moved on without a word. With an abrupt turn, she stepped to the door directly across the hall. With another pause as her hand gripped the knob, she closed her eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and opened it. I followed her in to what must have been her six year old self's room. It was exactly what I would have expected to see in a happy little girl's room. A purple floral bedspread on her single bed, overrun by stuffed animals, puppy posters taped on every wall, piles of dolls on a child size table with two small chairs, and a shelf filled with dozens upon dozens of books. The only thing out of place was a row of fifteen or so candles along the windowsill. They varied in size, shape, and color.

"What's with the candles? Baby witch practice?" I asked.

"Bingo. Mom tried to teach me precision and constraint at an early age. The goal was to light the candles in a specific order in quick succession, then extinguish them in a different order. Sort of like a twisted, witchy version of Simon, you know, that game where you have to press the different color buttons in order?" she explained.

"Yeah, I have spent my fair share of time trying to entertain myself with one of those. Were you any good at it?" I inquired.

Sam gave me a patronizing look, wiggled her fingers and the candles ripped to life, each wick igniting one after another. She quickly followed by extinguishing them each with a snap of her fingers, all in about 20 seconds.

"Impressive," I admitted. I swear, any chance she had to flaunt her magic she took, though I really couldn't blame her. "We best get back to it though," I insisted.

Sam began her chanting again, palms up, walking around the room. Nothing. I headed to the door, ready to move on, turning around as I reached the threshold. Sam had stopped at the bed, picking up a particularly worn stuffed rabbit. She held it to her face and inhaled deeply, a satisfied smile drifting briefly across her lips, before she dropped it back in place. I couldn't imagine what she was thinking about in that moment. Maybe the memories of the happy and carefree days of her childhood, memories long forgotten, were flooding over her. Perhaps a reminder that things were once good and right in her world? These were things I couldn't relate to. I don't have any memories I would call happy, certainly none that were carefree. I do remember a brief time when we were very young, maybe four or five, when Jo seemed to care for me. It wasn't too long before good ole' Mom and Dad had her drinking the anti-Kai Kool-aid.

As we continued through the last room upstairs, an office/ library, my mind continued to ruminate on which was worse… having love and happiness and having it taken from you or never having it at all. On one hand, experiencing love, deep parental love, and having it ripped from you would leave an indelible mark, always reminding you of what you were missing. Like a memory that was a stain. I concluded that life was easier for me. I never had anything to lose so I never had to endure the feeling that something was missing. You couldn't miss what you never had. This began to itch at the edges of my mind. I needed to hurry things along. Every extra minute in this house was another memory pulled from Sam's subconscious, every single one could be the knife that cut the threads of her sanity.

Sam finished in the office, finding nothing, and we moved down the stairs again quickly. Sam did a quick sweep of the family room and the dining room just beyond it while I waited near the bottom of the stairs. She returned, shaking her head slightly. The kitchen was the last stop on this floor. I proceeded in, striding past the table as I head toward the back of the house. When I turned to look for Sam, she was still standing at the edge of the kitchen, where the old cracked linoleum met the shag carpet. There was deep trepidation etched in her face and she paled, her hands shaking. She was staring at the floor. I had been afraid of this. I could tell she was reliving her mother's murder. I had to get this shit under control, so I sprinted back to her, grabbing her shoulders.

"Hey…look at me," I snapped sternly as I shook her. "Look at me! We need to find the grimoire, remember? Focus, OK?" She looked up at me, her eyes blank…lost. "Sam!" I shouted, "5 more minutes…can you keep it together for 5 more minutes? We are almost done. Then we'll be out of here."

She nodded, taking in a shaky breath. A moment later she closed her eyes and began chanting again, making a full pass around the kitchen. I could see her hands were still shaking. She suddenly met my eyes, realizing I had noticed. She dropped her gaze and flexed her fingers into tight fists, then rubbed her palms on her shorts quickly before she strode over to where I was standing.

One floor left to check, the basement. If the grimoire wasn't down here, I wasn't sure what we would do. It had to be, I mean what better place to hide mystical texts than in a creepy fucking basement. I reached for the knob when Sam's small hand suddenly gripped my forearm tightly, stopping me from turning it.

I looked at her, confused.

"Are you going to be able to do this? We just have the basement and then we can get the hell out of here," I reminded her. I took her face in both of my hands, forcing her to concentrate on me. "Nothing is going to happen. These are just memories, they aren't real. I am not going to let anything happen, ok? We are going to go down there and get that damn grimoire and we are going to get home. Do you understand?" She was watching my lips, her eyebrows furrowed, "Do you understand?" I asked again, angrier, "Say it, say you understand."

"I understand," she promised.

I pulled the door open swiftly, in a hurry to get this done. I could tell she was hanging on by her fingertips and I need to get us out of there. Taking the stairs three at a time, I hit the bottom in a flash as Sam slowly followed. The basement was split in two by the staircase; to the left was storage, filled be stacks of boxes and other unused items, and to the right was a larger room that must have been used for coven rituals. There was shelving along the walls where jars of herbs, potions, and other spell ingredients were lined up in neat rows. I saw the pentacle Sam had referred to earlier carved into the concrete. There was a table against the far wall with a few chairs; otherwise the room was empty aside from the gas furnace near the rear of the space right next to a short set of stairs that led to the bulkhead. Sitting right on the table was the goddamn grimoire, right out in the open. Relief swept over me as I walked over to grab it. Looking back, I saw Sam enter the room as I was leaning down to run my hand over the cover.

That is when the wave hit me, like a sonic boom of magic exploding from a singular focal point. I was slammed against the table, the edge hitting me right under my ribs. As I fell to the floor gripping my side, I saw Sam drop to her knees in the middle of the room. She was shuddering violently, her eyes rolled back so only the whites showed. Magic was rolling off her, burning pulsations hitting me. I struggled to crawl to where she kneeled, making only slow progress as her magic pushed me away. It was like straining against hurricane force winds.

"Sam!" I yelled, "You need to stop."

An agonizing moan began to build in her throat, eventually culminating in a terrifying howl. Holy shit, she was full on unleashing her power. It was thrumming out so brutally that it was causing the foundation to shake. The wooden structure of the house began to creak and groan. She was going to bring the whole damn thing down on us.

I was still trying to make my way to the center of the room where she was now perched on her hands and knees. An unseen wind picked up in the basement, whipping around us, sending bottles and vial smashing to the concrete floor. The screech issuing from Sam's mouth was inhumanly piercing and thunderous. Even with my hands covering them, my ears were wrenched with pain from the sound, unbearable and penetrating, tearing my eardrums. Soon blood was dripping from my ears and down my neck. Any of the glass vessels that were not thrown from shelves began to shatter in response to the amplitude of her shrieks.

I struggled closer, trying to get her attention and talk her down. I kept screaming her name, but she was completely unresponsive. Each wave of magical release that shook from her body hit me harder, every one hotter than the last. It began to burn my skin, like flash sunburn. If this lasted much longer, I would blister. I kept closing in, each inch forward taking a substantial amount exertion.

When I finally reached her, I grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard screaming her name. I tried to focus on her face with great effort. Fuck, her eyes had turned completely black. This just got better and better. I saw cracks were twisting up the concrete walls around us, chunks falling to the floor. Furniture was crashing down on the levels above us. It wouldn't be long before the ceiling gave way.

"Sam!" I shouted urgently, "Can you hear me? You are going to kill yourself! You need to stop…LOOK AT ME!"

She didn't even register my presence. An epiphany suddenly hit me. If she was overwhelmed with magic, causing it to rip out of her like a radioactive waves, then maybe I could siphon it out of her. If I reduce the load on her body, maybe she could regain control. I grabbed her forearms and prepared myself. As I began trying to pull magic out of her, it was forced into me like a firehose filling a bucket. My hands locked on her arms as my head was slammed back as my vision went black.

Images started emerging in my head.

 _A woman lying on the floor of the kitchen, reaching toward me as blood spurt forth from a deep gash in her throat. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked at me until the life left her, blood pooling under her inches from where I knelt._

I was injected with these feelings of grief and anguish and rage and helplessness. It struck me that I was sharing these memories with Sam, reliving them with her, seeing the things that had brought her to her knees.

 _A man violently grabbing my arm, no Sam's tiny arm…the arm of a child. He pulled her across the basement yelling at her._

 _"You will give us your magic and you will do as you are told," he threatened, back handing her across her tiny face._

I felt the strike and filled with rage.

 _He pulled her over to the furnace and opened the tiny door. It was not big enough for an adult to fit through, but it would fit a child with a slight frame, someone like Sam. The man picked her up and shoved her through the opening roughly, slamming the tiny door behind her._

 _"If you refused to cooperate, I will burn the fucking magic out of you," he seethed as he flipped the furnace on with her inside._

Oh my god, he was going to cook her alive. I could hear her screaming and pounding on the walls, cries filled with panic. The terror started to seep into me like a poison and I could feel the brutal distress taking over all my senses. I knew it wasn't real, but it felt real. Holy shit did it feel real. Sam's desperate need for survival surged in the pit of my stomach. I began to hyperventilate, the food in my stomach struggling to stay down. The smell of burning flesh began to prickle my nose.

 _"I'll do it," she cried. "Please! Let me out! I promise I will behave!" her wails piercing the silence of the room. Finally the man opened the door and pulled her out, her shins and hands blistered from the heat._

Suddenly, I was in the family room standing in front of the same man as he sat in a recliner.

 _Hostility ebbed through his features, the focus of which was a teenage girl standing in front of him. She looked to be a sophomore in high school, her signature wild, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had a mask of defiance on her face but I could see her fingers trembling slightly. She was putting up a brave front, though she had not completely convinced herself this was the wise move. I could feel the apprehension, the unsureness quietly slithering through her mind._

 _"Listen here, little witch," he spat out with disgust, "If you think you are leaving this house, you have another thing coming, especially not with Colin."_

 _"You can't keep me locked up for the rest of my life," she screamed, "Colin is part of the coven. What could possible happen? " She paused, weighing her option, then continued in a low, threatening tone with her eyes lowered, brows drawn down, "I think you will find my lack of cooperation very difficult to deal with if I don't get at least a night a month out of this house."_

It sounded like a typical fight between a protective father and his teenage daughter demanding more independence, when in reality it was a hostage negotiation, the hostage being the one to try to parley her own freedom.

 _The man stood, towering over her. True to form, she stood her ground, jaw jutting out in opposition. For a few tense moments they stared at each other, neither backing down. Suddenly, as quick as a viper, his hand flew, striking her brutally across the cheek, the room ringing with a sickening smack. Sam hit the ground and I could feel the mind scrambling pain splinter through her face, causing my head to swim temporarily. The man bent down grabbing her arm hard enough to cause immediate bruising as he yanked her off the floor._

 _"You don't seem to understand how things work, do you. You will never leave this house. You will give your magic to me when I say you will," he cautioned. A vile, predatory smile spread over his face and he continued, "And when you are old enough in a year or two, I will father your child, the next in the de la Barthe line. When you are of no more use to me, well, I think you remember what I do with women who outlive their usefulness." With his final remark, he threw her to the ground again, her cheek rapidly swelling, some blood trickling down from where the skin had parted._

For the first time, I start to feel real fear for Sam. She was defenseless against him. He had her magic, he was physically dominant, and he had an entire coven behind him. It was like cornering a desperate wild animal with a shot gun. There was the hunter and the hunted and the hunted could only run. I was very familiar with this game of cat and mouse. Unexpectedly, I started getting this counterintuitive feeling emanating off Sam. It was confusing, she should have been terrified, but she was amused, white hot rage built in her.

 _She looked up at him and let out a venomous snicker. This really did not sit well with the man. "You think you have something to laugh about, you little bitch? I have your magic and you have nothing. You can't even defend yourself," he finished as he began to roll up his sleeves, readying himself to give her a good old fashion beating._

 _"I am done with letting you use me. You will not control me for a minute more," she seethed, raw fury craved deep into her features,"you shouldn't be so sure about how much of my magic you took, you piece of shit."_

 _Her statement had clearly thrown the man off and he halted in slight confusion as Sam rose from the ground, raising her hand to him._

 _"Emisisse Sanguinem Ulcus," she thundered, dropping the man to his knees screaming. "You know, Alan," she hissed, "you may have been able to control my mother, but you always underestimated me. Over the past six years, every time you and the coven preformed that little ritual to stripe me of magic, I've taken the opportunity to practice, resisting the spell, getting stronger. Each time I was able to retain a little more of my magic and, well, a little de la Barthe magic is a hell of a lot more powerful than all of your fucking hilly billy magic put together." Swiftly, she slammed her hand closed into a fist and he dropped to the ground choking. He struggled and writhed for a few minutes, Sam standing above him with her fist closed tightly, knuckles turning white. Then he just stopped moving._

 _She loosened her grip, falling to her knees. Unexpected sobs started racking her tiny frame. Slowly, the sobbing transitioned to laughing, tear still rolling down her cheeks furiously. The relief that was washing through every fiber of her body filled my mind. She was finally free of the man who had held her prisoner for years, torturing her. She began to compose herself, wiping her cheeks and getting to her feet. Without another moment's hesitation she directed her hand toward the couch, flames igniting wildly from the cushions. With another flick of her wrist, the curtains caught fire, then the kitchen table. She turned and walked out the front door, slamming it behind her with a flick of her finger, the glass shattering outward from all the front windows of the house. As she walked down the path to the street, she gave a final twist of her wrist causing the entire house to engulf in an extraordinary inferno._

As my vision came back into focus, I had returned to the basement with Sam, her magic still pouring into me. It was more than I could handle, every cell of my being was on fire and my skin felt like it was ripping apart. My hands tore from her forearms, falling to the floor in a desperate attempt not to vomit. Her intense exodus of magic was still thrumming and pulling apart the foundation of the house, the surges still scorching, making it hard to breath. The tornado of debris flying around us made it difficult to see.

I vaguely realized that the staircase leading to the kitchen had collapsed and the support beams above us were working their way loose. The sudden comprehension of the imminent danger brought my focus back to the present. I grabbed Sam by the shoulders, trying to shake her into consciousness as I screamed her name again. One of the beams overhead finally came loose and I threw up a protective shield around us just in time.

 _Holy shit, it was nice to have magic again. Oh, how I had missed this._

I tried to pull her toward the bulkhead stairs, but I couldn't budge her. Maybe I could use magic to move her? The panic in me was building and I was getting frantic. At the rate she was expelling energy, her body would give out. Her skin was turning a sickly shade of blue from lack of oxygen. If she died, I didn't have a chance at getting out of this godforsaken prison world, not to mention I would be alone again which was a prospect that I didn't relish. My thoughts were racing and without thinking, I grabbed her and kissed her hard. I have no idea what came over me or what I was trying to accomplish. I just kept kissing her, my lips parting hers, holding her firmly to me, until she started kissing me back, her hand rising to the back of my neck, making a shiver run down my spine.

Her eyes became her own again and she was getting the expulsion of her magic under control as I continued to hold her close. The protective shield around us, still intact, kept falling debris from hitting us.

"Can you move," I asked, "Can you stand?"

Without a word, she stood up and reached her hand past me, summoning the grimoire into her grip. "Let's go," she said, pulling me up the stairs as she shoved the bulkhead doors open.

From the outside, the house was tipping at a dangerous angle. By the looks of it, we had gotten out just in time. She continued to pull me around the front of the house to the car. Pulling the keys out of her pocket, she popped the trunk, throwing the grimoire in, and taking one of the gas cans out. In her usual defiant manner, she marched back to the house and flung the front door open. I followed quickly, beginning to yell out a warning not to go in, when she flung the can in the air and screamed "Motus!" The gas can flew with impressive velocity through the front door, exploding on the steps leading to the second floor.

She backed up to where I was standing and twisted her wrists, causing the house to go up in flames for a second time. It was only a matter of minutes before it was completely consumed by the fire, the heat becoming so intense that we had to retreat to the street.

"Nothing like a good arson to improve the mood," I quipped.

She just smiled faintly, turning to look at me. "You're hurt," she pointed out, frowning.

I couldn't hear her very well, my ears filled with blood and all. I gave her a puzzled look and then I realized that the burns I received in the basement had in fact blistered in some places. I also had a serious bruise forming on my side, where I collided with the edge of the table.

"I'm fine," I shrugged it off, "I can heal myself, thanks to your borrowed mojo."

She looked dissatisfied with my response as she leaned over to pull a cloth out of the trunk. Gently, she wiped the blood from my neck and face. She was so damn short that she had to lean against me to reach my ears. Even after all the shit that went down, she still smelled fantastic. Much to my embarrassment, I started feeling a stirring in my pants…

 _Christ, she smells so fucking good and her breasts are pressed against me. God, the things I want to do to her right now. C'mon, get it together, Kai. Think baseball, naked old ladies, Latin verb conjugation, anything but her…_

I took the cloth from her hands and gently pushed her away, cleaning off the rest of the blood myself. I didn't need Mr. Happy poking her, at least not right now. Turning my back to her, I chanted for a minute until the blisters subsided and my hearing came back. Life was so much easier with magic. It had been such a long time…

"See? All better," I showed her.

"Thanks," she offered, "for being my lifeline in there."

"I need you to resurrect this Bennett witch. I can't lose my ticket out of her, now can I. Though, now that I sucked up a ton of your magic, maybe I don't really need you anymore," I goaded.

She gave me one of her _don't give me your shit_ looks. "A simple you're welcome would suffice, jackass," she remarked.

I grabbed her hand, looking her in the eye with my usual mischievous smirk. "You are welcome," I told her. She smiled back, not pulling her hand away.

So, we stood there watching the house burn to the ground until after sunset, leaning against the car with our fingers laced together. As night consumed day, only the glow from the fire illuminated her face, making me smile to myself.

This chapter took a while to write. Thank you so much to everyone who has left reviews! I truly appreciate it and love to hear what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Sam

Coffee. I needed some coffee. I rummaged through the Salvatore kitchen in a desperate search for caffeine. They had to have some in one of these cabinets.

"Top left, here, let me get it. There is no way you can reach," Kai surprised me from behind. He was freshly showered, droplets of water dampening his t-shirt collar. He slid past me and reached up to grab the coffee, handing it to me before he ambled over to the fridge to search for something to eat.

We had gotten back late last night. I had wanted to stay to watch the house burn to the ground. I wanted every last fragment of it gone from this world. I took a few hours and when there was only smoldering ash left, we headed back to Mystic Falls. I let Kai drive. I could tell he was feeling less than certain about my state of mind. He liked being in control, so I let him. I had been exhausted anyhow and slept almost the entire way home.

When we got back to the Salvatore's, Kai gently shook my shoulder.

"Sam, were back," he said quietly, turning off the car.

"Mmmmmmm…okay," I murmured, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I sat up, stretching, preparing to drive back to my loft. Getting out slowly, I groggily held my hand out for the keys as Kai came around to the passenger's side.

"Why don't you stay here tonight? Plenty of room…" he offered, "A lot went down today and you look wiped" His face gave away his concern, though he was working hard to appear nonchalant. Whether it was due to his worry for my well-being or apprehension that something would happen to his witchy escape plan if I was unsupervised, I couldn't tell. "You can take to room across from mine. I think it use to be Stefan's?"

"It did," I confirmed as I walked to the front door without another word. I was too drained to drive back home and wanted nothing more than to be in a bed, any bed. Walking through the front door, I proceeded down the hallway and upstairs to Stefan's room. Taking off my shorts, I climbed under the sheets and was out cold in a matter of minutes.

My sleep was fitful and filled with flashes of memories; the coven surrounding me as they prepared to strip me of my magic for the umpteenth time, violent beatings doled out for my insolence, being locked in the furnace, Kai kissing me in the basement as the house was about to collapse, killing Alan. Other memories I had spent years trying to suppress started surfacing again too; a homeless man, eyes wide and unmoving as he lay dead. Colin when we were on the road, traveling, then with blood running from his nose and eyes…

I awoke with a start, shooting straight up, choking on my own breathe as panic enveloped me. For a minute, I tried to calm myself, inhaling deeply. Then I jumped from the bed and dashed to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet violently.

The dry heaving continued for a few minutes until my body was done purging everything but the memories that were haunting me. Pouring myself a glass of water from the sink, I rinsed my mouth thoroughly and moved back to the bed, still shaking. As I climbed back under the covers, I tried to go back to sleep but my mind was swarming painfully. It wouldn't stop racing, making me feel like complete insanity was taking over. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, streaming from my eyes. In moments, my body was wracked with hysterical sobs as I clutched a pillow to my chest.

I didn't hear the door open or the footsteps across the hardwood floor. I didn't even feel the bed shift as he lay down. One of his arms wrapped around my waist, the other above my head, his hand gently stroking my hair. He didn't say anything; he was just there, tethering me to reality, calming my demons. I felt his steady breathing on my ear, his face resting on my head. I knew he had shared my memories or visions - whatever you want to call them - in the basement. I had fully relived each horrifying minute when my magic was spiraling out of control. It felt different than the first time I experienced these cruelties, though. I could sense him there with me…unlike the solitude I felt when I had actually endured those events. Just knowing he was with me made it easier, less painful… safer. Eventually, I relaxed against him, my thoughts slowly dropping away.

When I woke up, he was showering so I slipped downstairs. My head was pounding and my face was puffy and swollen. Yesterday had taken its toll on me.

Now Kai sat across from me, eating Count Chocula cereal as I drank a mug freshly brewed coffee. Neither of us seemed to be in the mood to talk much. I grabbed the box of cereal, sticking my hand in.

"Do you want a bowl?" Kai asked.

I just shrugged, staring out the windows over the sink.

"Motus," he mumbled while concentrating on the other side of the kitchen. A cabinet door swung open and a bowl flew towards Kai's hand, a satisfied smile emerging on his face, as it sailed past his hand and bounced off the table, smashing on the floor.

"Bit rusty, eh?" I noted teasingly as I pulled another handful of cereal out of the box.

"It's been a while. I just need to shake the dust off," he said, trying again. This time he caught the bowl, though it flew in a wider arc than he expected, and slid it towards me.

"Thanks," I muttered distractedly as I poured cereal into the bowl. My mind was occupied with the grimoire. There were multiple spells that could work for what we needed but I was not sure which one would work best for our purposes. There were two that came to mind… a resurrection spell that would bring the deceased Bennett witch back to life and a regenerative spell that would restore her body and reverse the years of decay. She would be in the same state she was immediately after her death without her spirit crossing the threshold back into this world.

I did not want to bring her back from the dead if we didn't have to. It would cause a whole mess of problems and then we would have to decide what to do with her. I didn't want to have to kill her again just to restore the universal balance, but I was not sure what other options we had. The only other people around to restore the balance with their lives were Kai and I. "Where is the grimoire, I want to look through it," I asked, my face pinched with worry.

"On the table in the living room," he answered, mouth full of cereal, milk dripping down his chin. His manners were really beyond repair. 18 years on his own had turned him into a savage when it comes to eating. I just shook my head and stood up.

I retrieved the book and laid it open on the table between us.

"The way I see it we have two options. Regeneration or resurrection. I would prefer regeneration so we don't have to actually bring May Louise back over the threshold," I deliberated, flipping through the pages.

"Gotta be resurrection. It will be essential for Bennett magic to be present in the blood. No life, no magic," Kai explained. "If we take blood from the freshest version of her corpse, it won't work."

"Shit," I blurted out, my distress evident as I rubbed my hands over my face anxiously, "I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"No other way" he said. His casualness about the whole situation was unsettling.

"So, what is your plan? We resurrect her and then? What? Just kill her again?" I asked with an irate edge to my voice.

"Yeah…what else would we do?" he replied with confusion seeping into his tone.

"Not kill her?" I answered, annoyed that this hadn't even been a possibility in his mind.

"I see. So what do you propose? We bring her back and take her with us, bring her back to the present? We can be the three fucking Musketeers and have potluck dinners together every Sunday! I'm sure Bonnie would love to meet her. It wouldn't be awkward at all, or unnatural, or a disruption to the natural balance that would come around to bite us in the ass" he snapped.

I shot him an angry look, crossing my arms, preparing to argue.

"Okay," he said, leaning his forehead against his knuckles in frustration, "I get where you are coming from, Sam, I do. You don't feel right about taking her life. It is not right or ethical, blah blah blah. But it's not like she died that young. She lived her life and should be allowed to rest in peace… except for this tiny, little detour so we can procure some of her blood." His nose crinkled in mock apology for the predicament we were putting this woman in.

"I am just being practical here," he said, "We have a goal and this is how we achieve it. We can't afford any deviations or loose ends. You know as well as I do that if the balance is disrupted for too long, there will be repercussions. Is that what you want?" Kai asked matter of factly.

"I can't take this lightly. I can't disregard my moral compass. This needs to be a hard decision," I replied, letting out a deep breath, muttering, "I already have enough blood on my hands."

"Try to think of it as temporary relocation, from one side of the threshold then back to the other. You aren't resurrecting her and killing her as much as you are taking her on a quick trip and then sending her happily on her way home again," he argued. "You need to re-center that moral compass, anyhow. Killing the man that used you as a magical all-you-can-eat buffet for a decade, doesn't really count as 'blood on your hands'."

I lowered my eyes, unable to meet his gaze. He didn't know any better. Why would he. I had never told anyone about the others. A pang of guilt and remorse was ringing in my gut. I couldn't think about this now. I shook my head, trying to clear the morbid thoughts dancing in the back of my mind.

"There is something else I have been worrying about," I admitted, meeting Kai's stare, frowning deeply, "What if we can't resurrect her with the other side gone. I am not sure what happened to all the spirits that were there. They might not even exist anymore or they could be someplace where they can't be called back to our side."

"The thought had crossed my mind," he said, rubbing his chin nervously. "I guess we won't know until we try," he shrugged, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms.

I flipped to the page outlining the spell for resurrection.

"We have some ingredients to gather, most of them are fairly common, the rest we can find at that holistic store near my loft. Mint, dandelion, sweet grass, wormwood, yew, pipsissewa, most of these are indigenous to Virginia…" I remarked as I looked over the spell. There was one key ingredient that I had not told Kai about. "We also need a blood sacrifice," I casually threw out, bracing for his reaction.

"I don't think I heard you correctly, what was that?" he asked, lips pressed together, nose flaring as he leaned forward. His eyes blazed with fury.

 _Oh yeah. He definitely heard me._

"Hear me out, Kai. I have a plan…"I began tentatively.

"I don't suppose your plan is that YOU bleed yourself dry for this spell. Is that your plan, Sam? I am guessing not," he snapped, his irritation rising, fist clenched on the table.

"Fair enough," I admitted, "but you have that unique ability to, you know, NOT die? You have to admit that it comes in handy in this situation."

In a burst of anger he swatted his cereal bowl across the room where it shattered against the stone fireplace. He closed his eyes. I could see his brain was ticking through alternatives. His eyes snapped open and he glared at me, exasperated.

"You won't feel anything. I'll make sure of it," I promised, "I will be with you the entire time."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," he said, resigned, "Let's just get the ingredients we need. There is no point in dragging this out."

"We can start looking in the woods around the house. Yew and dandelions should be easy to find. Mint, wormwood, and pipsissewa will take a little more searching. Sweet grass might be harder. We will probably find that at the holistic store. We'll also need a few other things. Candles, a copper bowl to mix everything in, what else…"

Kai pulled the grimoire over to him and looked over the spell. I sat, silently watching the intense look on his face. His eyes were mesmerizing when he was serious, like he could see straight into my thoughts. He looked up at me questioningly, as I stared at him.

"What?" he asked, tipping his head sideways in confusion, "is there something else you're leaving out?"

"No, nothing," I responded awkwardly, looking away, "I'll be back in a few. I've gotta fix my hair and brush my teeth." I quickly left the room and ran upstairs. Once I was safely in Stefan's bathroom, door closed, I splashed my face with cold water. This was so unlike me. I was the requisite lone wolf. I don't depend on anyone, only myself. No attachments. Nothing to lose. But…I couldn't seem to control my feelings. The longer I was here, alone with Kai, the more attached I felt. I had begun to concern myself with his well-being, breaking rule #1 of the loner handbook.

 _No one is your problem and you aren't anyone else's problem._

He had made me his problem, though. He would have me believe it was all out of selfish need. I had the magic and he didn't…hadn't, anyways. He needed me to get us out of here, but after last night, I wasn't certain. I am sure he would throw out a witty comment if I asked him any direct questions. Something about him needing me to be focused, not distracted by my demons, no other reason for assuaging my suffering.

 _How could I effortlessly manage to be alone when I was in a world filled with other people, but now I find myself in a world where I could easily be alone and I have this undeniable need to be with the one other person here?_

This was becoming a royal mind-fuck and I needed to get my head straight.

I managed to get a brush through my hair, wrapping it in a bun and securing it with a hair clip. After searching through the drawers, I found an extra toothbrush, using it to scrub my coffee breath away. Before I walked out of the bathroom, I looked myself in the mirror and forced myself to think about Colin, just to remind myself of what happens to the people I get close to.

I bounced down the stairs quickly, noticing Kai sitting by the front door before I made it to the kitchen.

"Ready?" he asked, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied as we took one more step towards our freedom.

Sorry for such a long delay! Work got crazy (I ended up working 19 days straight) and things kept getting in the way of writing time (sleep, eating, family ;P ). This chapter was also giving me a wicked case of writers block. I knew where I wanted to go but I was having a hell of a time getting there.

Nina: you were asking about a ship name. I like your suggestion of #Kaimantha

Thanks to everyone who has left reviews! I really love the feedback. Hugs to you all!


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